Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company are the creation and property of JKR. I'm just borrowing them for awhile, and I'm sure not making any money doing it. :(
CHAPTER THREE:
The next day, Harry felt well enough to get on his feet. The first thing he noticed was that someone had taken the trouble to clean and press his robes. It hung neatly from a hanger, the new Gryffindor pin winking brightly on the dark cloth.
There was an awkward moment when Ginny stepped in to greet him. She'd obviously been worried, and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't touched.
At the same time, he could feel a barrier between them now. It had been self-imposed at first, but now it was simply there. And though they both regretted it, he sensed that she felt it, too.
Harry hit the showers as soon as Ginny left. She was on her way to the wedding rehearsal. She'd told him that, in case he didn't feel up to joining them, Mrs. Weasley had left some food in the kitchen.
The teenager was still groggy, probably an after-effect of Madam Pomfrey's brew, and it was only when he finished his shower that he realized he'd left his clothes and even his glasses in the room. Good thing everyone was gone, he thought, else it'd be embarrassing. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped into the hallway.
Right in front of Hermione, who was just entering the hallway. She gasped and stared at the green-eyed youth in shock. Because Harry wasn't wearing his glasses, he didn't notice her right away. She stood rooted to the spot as he approached.
If she'd never really noticed how Harry had changed and grown over the years, she certainly got an eyeful now. The boy who used to be about her height now towered over her by at least a head-span. He was lean and toned, probably from Quidditch, if a little pale, and the unruly dark hair on his head was now sprinkled lightly on his forearms and legs and, most intriguingly, in a line that arrowed down from his navel into the depths of the white towel.
"Her-hermione!" Harry stammered, as he finally focused on the girl who stood frozen in her bridesmaid's dress. He clutched at his towel in equal shock. "I thought everyone was gone!"
Hermione finally came to her senses. She averted her eyes. "Um, sorry. Ginny said you were awake and I wanted to tell you about what Tonks and Lupin ..." she trailed off in embarrassment. The Head Girl wasn't used to the sight of scantily clad young men. She had no brothers, and at Hogwarts the uniforms and robes covered just about everything. Now, thanks to this incident, her first real, live not-from-a-book-or-telly image of a nearly starkers man was that of her best friend!
Harry didn't let her finish. "Give me a minute. Meet you in the kitchen!" He ran past her and slammed into his room.
For a moment he just stood behind the door. He relaxed only when he heard Hermione's steps turn and fade away. Harry sighed in relief. Had she noticed? Because the moment he'd gotten over his shock, he'd felt himself stir under the towel.
For the first time, he was absolutely grateful to Fleur. The dresses she'd chosen for the bridesmaids had left Hermione and Ginny spluttering. Even after those two had insisted on some changes, they were still low-cut, strapless affairs that left the girls' arms, shoulders and most of their backs bare. If you were taller than the girls - and Harry and most of the boys were - you could even see a bit of cleavage. Which, as Fleur said, was the point.
Now what? He could hardly greet Hermione with a hard-on. He decided, not very rationally, to just take care of it quickly. He picked up his wand and cast a silencing charm. Then he dropped the wand and the towel and reached for his shaft. He already had the image in mind ...
... The girl's look of shock turned into something else as the half-naked boy, after a second's hesitation, continued his approach. He stopped only when he was right in front of her.
"Harry ...?"
"Shh." He reached out and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. After a few seconds she got over her surprise and started to respond. When she opened her mouth, he brought his arms around her and maneuvered them until Hermione was sandwiched between him and the wall.
He was still dripping wet from the shower, and now the water from his body was turning her thin bridesmaid's dress into little more than a sheer veil over her body.
Hermione gasped as Harry's hands found her breasts and gently squeezed. Her nipples hardened as the boy rolled them between his fingers through her dress. His green eyes were dark as they stared at her half-seen breasts. Then they rose again to meet her flushed gaze. "Let me see you," he asked hoarsely, as he continued to play with her.
When she didn't answer, he dove down and captured a nipple in his mouth. His tongue licked and thrust at it so roughly through the gossamer material that Hermione was afraid it would tear. She wove her hands into hair and tugged. "Harry, wait!"
Reluctantly, he broke off and gazed up at her, all his desire in his eyes.
Hermione's face softened the way it had last night, only this time it was directed at him. "We don't have time," she said regretfully. "I came back early to see you, but the rehearsal might finish any minute."
"You came back for me?" he asked, marveling.
The girl nodded and looked around nervously. "There's no time for what you want," she repeated, "but there is time for something else."
"What - Hermione!" he rasped, as she traced the hard ridge of his penis through the towel.
"Let me see YOU, Harry."
He nodded frantically. The towel dropped and pooled around his feet. Harry bucked as Hermione carefully took him in her bare hand. He braced his hands against the wall as she began to stroke him with her soft, warm fingers.
Suddenly his legs felt weak. "`Mione, I'm too excited, I'm not going to last long."
"You don't have to," she said, as her hand started to move rhythmically over his length. "Sometimes, Harry, people just want to do things for you. You have to accept that."
In astonishment, Harry watched the proud, brave Gryffindor sink to her knees. "You. don't. have. to," he managed to get out, unintentionally mimicking her words as his hips began to rock to the rhythm she set.
She smiled, and it was brilliant. "I think that's one of the reasons why I want to." She took him in her mouth and flicked her tongue over the swollen head of his cock ...
... "Hermione!" Harry bucked and cried out as he came. He tugged madly until the very last spurt. By the time he finished, he was panting for breath.
Grabbing his wand again, he cast a quick cleansing spell. The whole thing had taken about five minutes, and if he didn't hurry, Hermione would start wondering what was taking him so long.
He hastily opened a drawer and grabbed a fresh shirt and khakis. At the last moment he decided to bring the cloak for cover, in case he had any more embarrassing reactions to his best friend. He was still straightening the shirt when he got into the kitchen.
The way Hermione was bustling around told Harry that she was still embarrassed by the episode in the hallway.
"Um, sorry `bout that," he mumbled, raking a hand through his unruly hair. These days it seemed he had a lot to apologize for.
The girl shook her head. "My fault. I should've knocked or shouted or something." She placed the sandwich and bowl of soup Mrs. Weasley had left for Harry on the table, but remained standing a few feet from him.
Harry realized how hungry he was. "What about you?" he asked, draping his cloak over the chair as he sat down.
"They served food at the rehearsal."
The teenager began to wolf the sandwich down. Hermione had thoughtfully reheated the roast beef and the soup, and after an entire night of Madam Pomfrey's brews they tasted great. "So, you were saying? Lupin and Tonks?"
"Tonks passed by the Ministry. They're holding your attacker, but they haven't identified him yet. He wasn't a Death Eater, though. No mark," Hermione explained. "Lupin took a sample of the stuff on the icepick to this old potions professor, Snape's predecessor at Hogwarts, actually. He says it's definitely Snape's work, but he doesn't think it's a poison, either." She bit her lip in that way that said she was worried.
Harry looked up from his soup. "Well, at least it hasn't killed me yet," he tried to joke.
Hermione's head snapped up and she actually glared at him. "That's not funny!"
"No?" Suddenly he was ticked off. The attack and everything else had ruined the last normal thing he'd been looking forward to. The teenager could no longer pretend that things were normal, or that they would go back to the way they were. Dumbledore was gone for good and, just when he was about to set off for the horcruxes and Voldemort, things were happening to him that he couldn't understand.
He couldn't even talk to anybody about it. Normally he would tell Ron, but in this case that was impossible. And who else could he approach? How would he explain the fact that he was suddenly wanking off to images of his best friend, who was also his other best friend's probable girlfriend?
"Guess you're right, as always." His voice was cold. "I mean, Dumbledore's dead, in no small way thanks to me, and I'm supposed to get this powerful wizard that killed him, right? Only I've got no idea where the horcruxes are, and now I've got this thing running around inside me that could explode any minute. You're right, Hermione," he repeated, "it's not funny. But then, nothing's been funny for a really long time." He stood up. He'd lost his appetite.
Hermione looked stricken. "Harry, I ..."
He whirled away from her, grabbing his cloak from the chair. He had to leave before he gave into the urge to shake her ... or else kiss her hard, spill everything and try his best to wrest her from Ron. The only thing stopping him from giving into either impulse was the sure knowledge that he would lose her. And probably Ron, too. "I'm going for a walk."
==========
Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed before he decided to turn back. He only noticed that the sky was getting dark and that it was starting to get chilly. He drew his robes around him to ward off the cold. However pissed he was, he knew it wasn't right to make people worry. The Weasleys had always been good to him, and this was Bill's wedding after all.
He had already decided not to go. It was pointless now, and besides, he didn't think Bill and Fleur deserved to start their life together by being pawns in some stupid Death Eaters' plot.
For several years now, Harry had lived with the knowledge that Voldemort had him marked, but this time it felt like someone had painted a big red target on his back.
"... I can't help it. I'm worried about him, Ron."
Harry ducked behind an old oak tree and some bushes just as his friends came into view. Even in the failing light it was impossible to mistake the bright fiery head and that mass of wild curls. As quietly as he could, the bespectacled teenager crouched down and watched them.
Away from everyone else, the couple was holding hands once more.
"He's probably walking around, like he said. You shouldn't worry so much. Harry's a tough bloke. He's gone through worse than this."
"I know, but something's different this time. I can't put my finger on it. Before the attack, Harry was touchy, but now ..."
"I'd be touchy too, if someone tried to stick me," Ron stated reasonably. "What happened when you came back, anyway? You never said what set him off."
Harry was sure that Hermione was blushing, though Ron might not notice in the half-light of approaching dusk. "Nothing," he heard her say after a short pause, "he made a joke about not being dead yet and I sort of got on his case."
Ron actually laughed. "That's all? I thought for a sec it might've been because you told him about us." He said it lightly, but there was a question somewhere in his words.
Hermione stopped abruptly. "What is there to tell?" she asked quietly. "We've been going around like this" - she held up their linked hands - "and we've snogged a few times but ... well, what are we, exactly?"
It took Harry a few seconds to place the expression on Ron's face at that point. Then he had it. It was the same look that Harry had seen a dozen times on his teammate right before a serious Quidditch match.
The redhead was completely nerve-wracked. He started a couple of phrases, tried to start over, bungled it and finally threw out his hands in frustration. "Oh dammit, I am just absolute rubbish when it comes to words!"
"Try, Ron," his companion urged, but she was smiling at him.
"Alright, alright." The tall boy fidgeted. "I know I've been a jealous, half-witted prat this last year. Ginny says she can't even understand why you like me. But you know how much you mean to me, right, Hermione?" Ron took a deep breath. Oh to hell with it, just spill it, you wanker! "You know I ... I'd do anything for you."
For a moment Hermione was silent. Then she called Ron's name in a voice that Harry had never heard before, husky and soft and impassioned. She looked open and vulnerable as she pulled the redhead to her, so different from the girl who'd stood toe to toe with the most discriminatory purebloods at Hogwarts, who wasn't content until she'd beaten those who'd called her mudblood in every way that mattered.
But that wasn't what was on Harry's mind right then. As he watched their two shadows meld, saw Ron's arms wrap around Hermione tightly, watched the girl stand on tiptoe so she could better meet the boy's eager lips, something in him came to life. Oh yes, it was his old friend, that large and scaly creature that erupted in his stomach and clawed at his insides. Only it was much bigger now than it had been with Ginny. This time it seemed to practically take over his whole body.
Harry clutched his wand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Blood pounded in his brain. There was a savage urge to tear those two apart, to strike Ron senseless and take his place.
It shouldn't be like this, he thought wildly. It should be my arms around Hermione, my lips ravaging hers, my hand slowly moving up her hips to her side to ...
Just as Harry was about to hurl himself at them, Hermione broke the kiss. "Wait, Ron," she whispered, her hands dropping to his arms, stopping him.
The lanky redhead let her go. He was breathing hard, too, and he looked just as surprised as she was at the sudden intensity of it all. "Too fast?" he finally managed, sounding a bit sheepish.
"A little," Hermione answered honestly. "I wasn't expecting ..."
"Me neither," Ron admitted, but there was an extremely pleased expression on his face. "So, should we tell everyone?"
"Tell everyone what?" she asked innocently.
"Hermione!" He sounded slightly hurt.
She smiled, and went into his arms. "I'm just teasing," she reassured him, hugging him around the waist. "We should probably tell Harry first. If we're going after the horcruxes soon," her voice turned serious, "he has to know. But first we have to find him."
"I bet he's back at the Burrow already," Ron quipped, nuzzling her one last time. "Let's go. It's getting chilly. Phle - Fleur will kill me if you start sneezing tomorrow."
Harry waited for the pair to disappear before he got slowly to his feet. Neither of his friends would've recognized him then, the iron set of his jaw and the blazing anger in his eyes. It was a face he had shown to only two people - Snape, and Lestrange when he realized that she had killed Sirius.
"I won't lose you," he whispered to the darkness. He clutched his robes closely as a particularly cold wind blew. What he had seen had wiped out all questions and doubts from his mind. Now all that existed was the primal need to act. As Harry stalked off, a plan was already forming in his mind.